


inside your cover's always blown

by liketheroad



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-12
Updated: 2011-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:43:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketheroad/pseuds/liketheroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The impulse to hang Mike from the rafters and find out where it hurts is nothing compared to how strongly Harvey has to restrain himself from rewarding Mike when he’s done well, when Mike is looking at him full of longing and hope for praise, and Harvey wants nothing more than to shower him with words and touches showing Mike exactly how good Harvey thinks he is.</i> OR; in which Jessica Knows Everything, and also there is bondage and wooing, not necessarily in that order.</p><p><b>warnings:</b> explicit BDSM, general spoilers for season one</p>
            </blockquote>





	inside your cover's always blown

**Part One; Harvey**

The thing Harvey can’t explain to Mike is that the reason he’s not worried about Jessica finding out is that she already knows. Has from the beginning.

It’s not that Harvey _told_ her, in fact he’d intended to guard Mike’s secret with every deception and deflection at his disposal, but the minute she saw Mike, Jessica knew.

She knew, and she gave Harvey a _look_ that took him back a decade, to when she first discovered him, saved him, shaped him.

She said, “Ah, _Harvey_ ,” her tone managing to encompass a dozen emotions ranging subtly from furious to fond.

She beckoned him into her office with a sharp two fingered wave, and Harvey followed as close to meekly as he’d moved in years, shutting the door carefully behind him.

Hands on hips, Jessica spared one brief but all important moment to smile, despite everything, and acknowledge, “He’s lovely,” before her face turned cold and worst of all, disappointed.

“I told you to find an _associate_ , Harvey, not a chew toy.”

Harvey said nothing to this, waiting her out. She knew it was more than that. He’d never have gone to these lengths to bring Mike in if it was just that.

Several long, tense moments passed, and then Jessica let her hands fall from her hips, sitting down in a single, graceful motion. She inclined her head slightly, and Harvey took the permission to sit in the chair opposite her desk.

“Where’d you find him, Harvey?”

“He came to the interview.”

She arched a single eyebrow.

“By accident,” Harvey amended.

“And I take it he didn’t go to Harvard?” She asked, with a look that said, “Not even _you_ are that lucky.”

Harvey thought about trying to lie, but she’d never been fooled by him before, why should she start now?

He shook his head.

“Any law school?”

Another head shake.

“Jesus, Harvey. Undergrad?”

Harvey shook his head a third time. “He got kicked out.”

Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose. “Has he passed the Bar? Joined the association? I won’t let your actions destroy this firm, Harvey. Not even you.”

“He’s done both. He’s a genius, Jessica. He bluffed his way into the interview room and then he _beat_ me arguing the nuances of Sarbanes Oxley.”

Surprise flickered across her face, and Harvey pressed the advantage. “He remembers everything he reads, and he knows how to use it. He’s got more balls and brains than any Harvard clone I could have interviewed and he wants it more. He wants so desperately to do something with his life, he just needs this chance.”

“But that’s not why you hired him.”

Harvey lowered his head automatically, responding to the tone of her voice, the urge to look away until she tells him otherwise too strong to ignore.

“No.” Not entirely, not really.

“Harvey, if you needed something this badly, I would have hoped that you knew to come to me. I might not be your Domme anymore, but I still know the scene in New York better than anyone. We could have found you someone together.”

There was warmth in her voice then, enough to make Harvey look up, jaw set at a determined angle.

“I wasn’t going to find Mike in a club, Jessica. Not even the ones you operate.”

“And you’re sure that this is what he wants?” she asked, like she trusted him to know.

“I’m sure he’s what I want. In all senses of the word. As for Mike, for now, all I’m truly sure of is that he wants this job enough to risk everything for it, but I’m not going to use that to exploit a relationship out of him. I plan to present my case in the most attractive light possible, but whether or not he decides to take me on is entirely up to Mike.”

She played absently with the pendant on her necklace, mulling it over, and finally said, “I’ll look the other way, and allow this to continue, but Harvey, if you get caught, I won’t be able to protect you. And I will deny any past knowledge of this conversation, understood?”

It was more than he could have hoped for, more than he deserved, and Harvey smiled, as grateful and in awe of Jessica as he was the day they met.

She stood, and so did he, and before he turned to leave, Harvey said, “Thank you.”

She smiled, and shook her head. “Just don’t make me any more sorry than I already am.”

And that had been that. Now, three months later, Mike is still twitchy around her, still jumping at shadows he’s sure must be Louis coming around a corner to expose their secret, but Harvey can’t tell Mike not to worry, can’t tell him their secret’s already out.

Mike’s not ready to hear it, and he’s certainly not ready to deal with the implications of it. To explain, Harvey would have to explain about Jessica, and about himself, and he’s not ready to share that yet, not ready to tell Mike the real reason he’d been wiling to hire him. Doesn't know how to tell him it's because he was driven by a spark of awareness, a gut instinct about who Mike is. What they could be together. He would have to explain that he would have done anything, everything to keep Mike with him.

So he deals with Mike’s little temper tantrums about Harvey not taking the threat of exposure seriously enough, makes cracks about doubloons and Mike’s virginity instead of assuring Mike that he won’t get fired if Jessica finds out, because she’s known all along and he still has a job.

When the time comes, Harvey will tell Mike everything, but they’re still learning each other, for the moment, learning how to work together, how to live day by day, side by side. The rest is too complicated, too remote to think about yet. As much as Harvey wishes they were both ready for everything, right now, Mike isn’t, and if Harvey’s honest with himself, neither is he.

Since he came into himself, learned he was more of a Dom than a switch, Harvey’s scened with dozens of people, but it’s always been anonymous, controlled. A night or two a month in one of the clubs Jessica discreetly owns, stolen moments completely disconnected from his daily life.

That’s not how he wants it to be with Mike. With Mike he wants everything, and he’s terrified by how much he’s willing to risk for a chance to get it.

\---

There are times when Harvey wants nothing more than to kneel at Jessica’s feet and beg until she runs her fingers through his hair and drags him under her desk, but he never acts on the impulse, no matter how strong it is. The fact of the matter is, when they made the decision that he should stop subbing for her six years ago, it had been the right thing to do. Harvey wasn’t a true sub, not like Jessica deserved, not like Mike so clearly is.

He misses it, misses her, but Harvey had never quite been what she needed, and eventually both of them had had to accept that he was never going to be. Jessica liked to be challenged, but ultimately obeyed, and Harvey’d always had trouble with that second part, no matter how good it had felt to know he’d pleased her.

He worries about pleasing Jessica in other ways, now, and they can be equally rewarding. He’ll always belong to her more than a little, but the boundaries of their professional relationship are drawn carefully now, and not to be traversed.

It would be different with Mike, Harvey believes that to the very core of him. He and Mike would fit, would work, and when they came together it would be glorious. Harvey just has to figure out how to get them there.

\---

“I hate Trevor.” Harvey says heavily, and Donna’s eyes snap to meet his, instantly understanding. He swallows, bowing his head. “I think I may hate him more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my life.”

She’s dizzy, just for a moment, all the implications of this rushing at her at once, but then Donna nods, steady and sure, and says, “Okay.”

After a minute, Harvey looks up at her again, fierce determination in his eyes.

“Okay.”

\---

Mike listens to everything Harvey says, except when he doesn’t. Except when Harvey says one thing and Mike actually hears, “Find a way to make my life as difficult as possible, while lecturing me about having feelings and caring about the clients more, and then at the end of it all, ask me for a high-five you haven’t earned.”

Those are the times Harvey wants to grab Mike by the scruff of the neck and drag him across town to his penthouse and spend a few quality hours in the home-dungeon concealed behind a false wall in his study.

As hard as that is to resist, the impulse to hang Mike from the rafters and find out where it hurts is nothing compared to how strongly Harvey has to restrain himself from rewarding Mike when he’s done well, when Mike is looking at him full of longing and hope for praise, and Harvey wants nothing more than to shower him with words and touches showing Mike exactly how good Harvey thinks he is.

\---

The fallout from the accusations and bad blood surrounding Cameron Dennis’s resignation lasts a month, and every minute of it leaves Harvey feeling more brittle, ready to break apart at the slightest upset. He holds it together, but barely, and only if holding it together consists of things like having totally one-sided shouting matches with Louis and sending Mike home with a bruised, worried look more than half the time.

It doesn’t really cut it, as far as Harvey’s concerned, but he’s lost, floundering in mistakes he didn’t even know he was making, and he can’t reach out to Mike and ask for the help he needs, doesn’t even know how to form the words.

\---

Mike saves him, somehow, him and Donna and Jessica conspiring together to become a force Harvey suspects God himself couldn’t contend with.

When it’s over, Harvey and Mike are alone in his office, and Harvey may not have known how to ask for the help, but he knows well enough how to say thank you now that it’s been given.

He approaches Mike slowly, watching Mike watch the city at night, and then he rests a hand on Mike’s shoulder, turning his body towards Harvey a little, and says, “Thank you, Mike. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

The look Mike gives him in return is shocked beyond comprehension, but then Mike smiles, wide and fierce and proud, and he knocks his shoulder with Harvey’s and says, “Me neither.”

\---

Even after Mike’s recklessly brave and stupidly loyal performance during the hellish weeks Harvey spent trying to singlehandedly rebuild a decade’s worth of reputation without admitting to a thing or pointing any fingers, Harvey slips back into the unfeeling corporate douchebag routine for months, because he needs to know if Mike is tough enough for this, for _them_ , on top of everything else.

He waits, because he needs to be sure he’s what Mike wants. Harvey’s been sure since the moment Mike opened his mouth - the real Mike, not the one pretending to be Rick Sorkin - that he’s what Harvey’s been waiting for, and he’s just as sure that Mike’s in the market for a little of what Harvey is selling. But he’s also humble enough, on occasion, to acknowledge the possibility that, just because Mike’s in need (dire, if you ask Harvey) of a Dom, it doesn’t necessarily mean Harvey’s the going to be one Mike chooses.

Harvey’s not adverse to stacking the deck a little, he’s not claiming to always fight _fair_ , but in the end, that’s what it has to be. Mike’s choice.

Harvey’s already made his choice, signed and sealed the moment he decided to hire Mike, and now, just shy of the one year anniversary of that decision, Harvey figures it’s finally time to ask Mike to make his.

\---

“Donna, I need your help to woo my rookie.”

Donna swivels and raises her eyebrows. “Woo?”

“Yes,” Harvey says briskly. “Woo. Romance.” He thinks briefly of a frankly alarming afternoon spent watching a series of vampire movies with his nieces last summer. “Dazzle.”

Donna smirks, and rolls her eyes a little. “I don’t know now to break it to you, boss, but I’m pretty sure you dazzle him already.”

Harvey leans closer on her desk and reflects seriously, “Just because Mike isn’t going to make me work for it, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have to, right?”

\---

They end up spread out on the floor of Harvey’s office, making flowcharts of all of Mike’s observed likes and dislikes, his interests and his favorite movies, based on his most frequent and inappropriate quoting of them.

They work at it for hours, until Harvey is up and pacing, acting for all the world like it’s the eve of a career case.

Donna looks up at him from the floor, a roll of tape in one hand and a highlighter in the other and says, “Do you think you’re maybe putting a little too much thought into this? It’s Mike. I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve to be treated right,” and she gives Harvey a look that indicates in no uncertain terms what will happen to him if Mike isn’t. “But you know he’s going to love whatever you do together. You’ll be there.”

Harvey sighs, but he’s stopped pacing, at least. That’s progress.

“For a year, he’s done every single thing I’ve asked of him. Even the screw-ups, I knew he was always _trying_ to do the right thing, to make me proud. A whole year of that, and he’s got nothing to show for it.”

“That’s not true, he’s got this job - he’s got you!”

“Donna, you’ve seen how I treat the kid. I keep him at arm’s length, I push him into the deep end and expect him to already know how to swim, I praise him one minute and belittle him the next. Worse, I tell him where to sit, where to stand, how to talk, when to talk, how to dress, and I do all of that when I _know_ I shouldn’t, when I know I haven’t earned or even asked for the right.”

“Harvey, puppy metaphor or no, Mike is a grown-ass man and so far, I haven’t seen him take anything from you he hasn’t wanted, hasn’t asked for either explicitly or implicitly. But for all that, he’s not actually your sub, not yet. And you don’t treat him like he is.”

Harvey looks like he want to laugh, but he doesn’t. “Don’t I?”

She shakes her head. “You take care of your subs, and okay, you take care of Mike too, but not like that. Not like you will, when you actually do have permission.”

Harvey sighs again, and joins her back on the floor. “I’ve known, though. All this time I’ve known what I wanted him to be, what I wanted _us_ to be. I can’t go into this, knowing everything I want, everything I’ve _wanted_ , and not even... earn it.”

Donna reaches out, and briefly squeezes his hand. She says, “Okay, boss,” and they go back to work.

\---

The next morning, however, Harvey still isn’t satisfied with the range of pre-first-date wooing options they’ve come up with.

Finally appealing to the very core of him, Donna just says, “Why don’t you take him to a baseball game?”

Instead of looking relieved and happy the way Harvey usually does when he retreats into the thinking-about-baseball-place, he gets a pained, desolate look on his face and says, “Donna, he likes the _Red Sox_. I don’t know if I can, in good conscience, bring him anywhere near Yankee stadium.”

Wincing sympathetically, Donna says, “Maybe that’s the best reason to do it. If your relationship can’t overcome some ideological differences, it’s going to be doomed from the start. Bring him to a game. Maybe you’ll make a convert out of him.”

Harvey smiles, all sinister and determined, and Donna figures her job is done for the day.

\---

Donna listens in on Harvey’s meetings, and he does the same to her when people stop by her desk. The intercom is always on, a symbol of the trust and, admittedly, the occasionally alarming levels of co-dependence shared between them.

They don’t keep secrets from each other; they haven’t, not since he told her he was leaving the D.A.’s office and she told him she’d already been half-packed for a month.

So she hears his meetings, no matter how sensitive the information, and he hears it when Mike sidles up to her desk and knocks on politely the top of it, a little routine they’ve fallen into over Mike’s tenure at the firm.

Donna smiles. She adores the kid, but usually only lets it show fractionally more than Harvey, but this time it’s her full, real smile, and Mike blinks back at her, dazed and happy.

Harvey enjoys just watching the expression on Mike’s face for a moment, and then listens carefully when Mike asks, “How’s his mood?”

Donna schools her features, professional and aloof again, and says cryptically, “I’ve seen worse.”

Mike nods, like he’s psyching himself up, and bursts into Harvey’s office, files in hand and an argument sure to piss Harvey off on his lips.

Harvey settles back more comfortably in his chair, and lets Mike convince him.

\---

Jessica calls Harvey into her office on Wednesday, and when he comes inside she closes the blinds for only the third time in all the years he’s worked for her.

The other two were after hours, and when they were still Domme and sub above anything else.

He cocks his head curiously, and she beckons him closer.

He goes easily enough, curious, and once she’s close enough to touch, Jessica puts her hand on his cheek, and draws him even closer. He bows his head, lost in a gesture too familiar to ignore, a pull too strong to deny.

She holds him there for a second, her hand moving from his cheek to his hair, and she pulls, just a little, just enough to hurt, and a soft sigh escapes Harvey’s lips, and his eyes flutter shut as she closes the final inches between them to press a kiss to his forehead.

As quickly as it started, the moment is over, and she’s stepped away from him, adjusting her blazer and keeping all emotion off her face.

Harvey feels instantly more clearheaded, and after giving her a ghost of his old smile, the one that belonged only to her, he turns to leave.

Just before she lets him go, Jessica says, “Good luck, Harvey.”

\---

On Thursday, Harvey asks Mike what he’s doing on Saturday.

He watches with interest as Mike mentally rearranges his weekend, and can’t suppress the thrum of pleasure that comes when Mike smiles up at him and says, “Absolutely nothing.”

\---

“Are you dying?” Mike asks, once they’ve settled themselves into Harvey’s luxury box.

“Excuse me?”

Mike gestures wildly. “Well I just figured, you know. This whole father-son outing thing, something had to be up.”

Harvey takes a fortifying breath. “Please never refer to anything we do together in that fashion again.”

Mike laughs, but says, “Okay, boss.”

\---

After the game they grab dinner at a new burger bar in Brooklyn that hasn’t been discovered by the hipsters yet, and Mike looks positively gleeful until he notices that the menu doesn’t even have prices.

“Is this the kind of place that’s going to have me missing rent, Harvey?” He hisses accusingly once the waiter has left with their drink orders.

Harvey makes a face, and says, “One dinner shouldn’t be enough to break the bank, rookie. You have noticed you make a pretty decent salary, right?” He neglects to mention that he’s paying for this meal, because, duh.

Mike makes a face of his own. “I have bills, you know! Nursing homes where they actually treat the residents like human beings don’t come cheap.”

Harvey leans a little closer to him over the table. “Is the money not enough?” he asks, voice serious and low.

Taken aback by Harvey’s tone, Mike sits up straighter in his chair, all stiff-upper lipped and determined. “I can handle it. I just don’t want to pay 200 bucks for a burger, or anything.”

Harvey rolls his eyes. “It’s 300 dollars, and besides, I’m paying.”

Mike’s eyes bug out a little, and he asks, “First a baseball game and then paying for dinner? Are you _sure_ you’re not dying?”

Harvey smiles, and folds his napkin in his lap. “Shut up, Mike.”

Ever obedient, Mike does.

Harvey can barely wait for the part where he gets to reward Mike for that.

\---

He drops Mike off at his apartment, pausing to give the building a disdainful look before saying goodnight.

“This is the building you’re worried about making rent for?”

Mike huffs, readjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder, one hand on his hips. “It’s clean, and my landlady is nice. Deal with it.”

Harvey nods dismissively, and thinks, _for now_.

He claps Mike on the shoulder and sends him on his way, watching with naked appreciation as Mike climbs the stairs and disappears behind the thick metal door.

\---

The next Saturday, Harvey makes arrangements for them to go to biking in Central Park for the afternoon, thinking maybe they can grab pretzels or hot-dogs and sit down by the water once they get hungry.

Mike’s open-mouthed response to seeing Harvey is a white t-shirt and bike shorts is encouraging to the point where Harvey has to mentally recall Jessica’s sharpest Domme voice to stop himself from moving on Mike right then and there.

Demonstrating Herculean restraint, Harvey waits, feigning obliviousness, for Mike to remove his jaw from the ground.

Once he’s done so, he scowls a little and mutters, “I can’t believe you even _own_ a bike.”

Harvey laughs, and shows Mike just how well he knows how to use one.

Cursing, Mike hops on his own bike and chases after him.

\---

They bike for about three hours before Mike cries uncle, and, careful not to show Mike how tired he is, Harvey leaves Mike slumped on the grass while he goes foraging for salty baked goods and fresh water.

When he returns, Mike looks up at him with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Is this a picnic? Are we having a _picnic_ right now, Harvey Specter?”

Harvey hands him his water and pretzel, and says cheerfully, “Shut up, Mike.”

Laughing, Mike does the opposite, launching into a detailed discussion of the various pros and cons of the particular pretzel stand Harvey purchased their meal from, but Harvey smiles and listens indulgently, figuring Mike still deserves points for at least obeying the spirit of his request.

He doesn’t mind Mike talking, so long as he’s no longer asking Harvey for answers he’s not quite ready to give.

\---

The Saturday after that it’s an Indiana Jones marathon at the Screening Room and then dinner back at Harvey’s place.

Mike passes out on the couch after dessert, and Harvey puts a blanket over him and leaves Mike where he is.

\---

Mike goes along with the not-dates for a month before he finally calls Harvey out, barging into his condo on a Sunday morning (Donna made him a key months ago) and demanding to know what the hell is going on.

Harvey’s not thrilled to be on the receiving end of a seven AM interrogation, but it’s probably for the best, because Donna’s been looking at him like she’s about to start clucking and doing a chicken dance whenever he and Mike are in the same room together for at least the last week and a half.

He runs a hand through his hair, still loose and damp from the shower Mike interrupted, and says, “Sit down.”

Mike does. He shuts up, too, and Harvey didn’t even have to ask.

The look Mike gives him is full to the brim of trust and faith, and Mike waits expectantly for Harvey to explain the last month - or maybe year - of his life to him.

Faced once again with Mike’s unswerving belief in him, Harvey straightens his shoulders and sternly reminds himself who the Dom is around here. He can’t have Mike thinking he’s uncertain, or out of his depth or control. Mike deserves better than that, and Harvey is going to see that, for once, Mike gets everything he deserves.

“When I was twenty-one, I was a complete screw-up, in pretty much every sense of the word. I had a shitty job in the mail-room that I could barely perform, a coke habit I couldn’t afford, and a girlfriend who basically hated me, but kept me around because I didn’t mind if she slapped me around a little in bed.”

Mike’s eyes widen, and Harvey sees something like _want_ lurking beneath the surprise.

Harvey smiles thinly. “Not ‘minding’ might be a bit of an understatement.”

Mike’s eyes widen further; definitely want, this time.

Harvey keeps his triumphant grin to himself. It’s too soon to celebrate yet. He sobers himself and continues.

“That’s what I was like when Jessica found me. She saved me, from my pathetic excuse for a life, from myself. Somehow she saw my potential and gave enough of a damn about it to give me opportunities I hadn’t done anything to deserve. She took me to her bed, and then she sent me to Harvard, and groomed me every step along the way. I owe her everything.”

“Wow,” says Mike, looking shell-shocked and more than a little wistful. “You and Jessica, huh?”

Harvey wants to crow over the jealousy Mike’s not quite able to keep off his face, but he settles for assuaging Mike’s fears instead.

“We ended years ago, but not before she taught me a thing or two about myself.”

“Like what?” Mike asks faintly.

“Like, while I occasionally enjoy being at the receiving end of pain when I’m with the right person, I much prefer to be the one doling it out, and being the one who cleans up after. Same goes for giving the orders instead of obeying them.”

Mike snorts. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Harvey feels a flash of guilt, but there’s no recrimination in Mike’s tone, so he lets it go.

“Jessica helped me learn who and what I am. She taught me, took care of me. And when I grew out of what we were to each other, she let me go. I’ve been incredibly fortunate.”

Mike nods, still mostly looking stunned, and Harvey asks quietly, “Do you understand why I’m telling you all this?”

Mike shakes his head slowly.

Harvey purses his lips. “I’m disappointed in you, Mike. You usually keep up better than this.”

Mike sighs shakily. “I can think of three options, but none of them make sense.”

“Oh? Try me.”

Harvey watches as Mike pulls himself into performance mode, stretching out his shoulders a little, unconsciously adopting a more professional tone. “Well, first I thought maybe you were firing me, and the way you’ve been acting this past month was your way of breaking it to me gently, you know, buttering me up a little first. But you wouldn’t do that. If I was fired, you’d just tell me.” There’s a tiny kernel of doubt in his voice, but Mike doesn’t look up to see the confirmation in Harvey’s eyes.

“Or then I thought maybe this talk was supposed to be a kind of scared-straight thing, like you’re worried I’ve started smoking pot again and this is your way of giving me the speech about loyalty and not screwing up the opportunity you’ve given me. But that doesn’t make sense either, because I’m still getting tested regularly. And besides, I’d hope by now that you trust me enough to know I’d never betray you like that, not after everything we’ve been through together this past year.”

Harvey nods approvingly. “You’re not fired. And I do trust you. What’s the third option?”

Mike meets his eyes and steels himself visibly before blurting, “You’ve been hitting on me.”

Harvey grins. “Close enough.”

Mike’s mouth hangs open. “Wait -- seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Mike makes a low, strangled sound and puts his head between his knees.

Alarmed, Harvey rushes over to him, afraid Mike might be actually be having a panic attack or something.

Hoping it won’t spook him even more, Harvey puts a gentle hand on Mike’s back and when the tension in his shoulders dissolves the second he puts it there, Harvey decides to leave his hand where it is.

“I want you to know that you have all the control here, Mike. You can say no and we can forget this conversation ever happened. It won’t affect us at the office and it _certainly_ has no bearing on you keeping your job.”

This snaps Mike out of it a little, and he says hoarsely, “I know you’d never do that.”

Harvey smiles, warm and gratified. “Good.”

Mike sits up straighter and asks, voice surprisingly steady, “What if I say yes?”

Harvey desperately wants to take the win, but they’re not there yet.

“Slow down a minute, kid. There’s a lot more I have to tell you first.”

Mike leans into Harvey a little, and the hand that’s been resting on Mike’s back slides up to cup his neck as the result of his movement.

“If this is the part where we have a talk about the ins and outs of BDSM relationships and safe words and all that, can we skip it?” Mike asks, plaintive and wicked in the same moment, shocking Harvey into silence. “Because I pick “Louis” and believe me, I’ve done my research.”

“How did you even know what to look into?” Harvey demands once he’s regained his voice.

Mike grins, and there, right there, is the cocky, brilliant, fuck-up Harvey fell for on sight. The one he wants to discipline and encourage with an equally intense passion.

“I didn’t, I mean, I didn’t exactly know it applied to _you_ , I just knew it applied to how I _felt_ around you.”

Harvey nods. That makes sense, in a Mike kind of way.

“Have you ever subbed before?”

Mike shakes his head. “No. Or, well, nothing organized.”

“Define unorganized.”

Mike shrugs. “Sometimes Trevor and me, I don’t know. He’d make jokes about how I got off on pleasing people, like I’d prefer a few words of praise over a blow-job, that kind of thing. And sometimes we’d smoke, and he’s just get me to do things for him. Stupid shit. Like go get him chips or give him a back-rub or whatever. Nothing, you know, sexual, not really.”

Harvey doesn’t like the sound of that proviso at the end, or really any part of this, but he forces himself to remain calm and not book a flight to Montana this instant to go kick Trevor’s ass.

“Anyone else? Any experimenting with girlfriends, going to clubs...?”

Mike shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve never really dated anyone, not properly, I guess. It was always just me and Trevor, and then it was me and Trevor and Jenny, and then for awhile just me and Jenny, but I never... well, I guess I never found someone I trusted enough to really try any of this with. I never really even trusted someone enough to want it, until I met you.”

Mike says this matter-of-factly, like he hasn’t just given Harvey the greatest gift in basically the universe, like Harvey hasn’t been waiting for this, wanting this, from the minute they met.

Time to disabuse him of that notion, fallout or no. And there is fallout to be had, Harvey doesn’t doubt.

Sure enough, he launches into the second half of his explanations, and when they finally get to the part where Harvey hired Mike in large part due to his immediate interest in Mike as a sub, Mike gets pissed, which is not only expected but understandable, and frankly a welcome change from state of shock he’s been slipping in and out of for the past half hour or so.

“Did you even - I mean, did you even think I could do the job? Did you care?”

“I _knew_ you could do it. Make no mistake, Mike. My interest in you has never been anything close to one-dimensional. When I fell for you, I fell for the whole package. Brain, smart-mouth, skinny ties and all. I knew I wanted you with me, working and living by my side, and I’d never wanted any of that before, not from anyone, not even Jessica. I went into those interviews not planning on hiring anyone, and instead I found you.

”But if I hadn’t thought you could do the job, and do it damn well, I never would have hired you; hell, I probably wouldn’t have been interested in you. You should know by now that I don’t slum it. I have no interest in interacting with lesser minds, not in my personal or my professional life. I admit I got greedy, when I hired you. I admit I saw your potential to be more than an amazing associate, or even a partner in your own right, someday. But it was all of you that ensnared me, that made you so irresistible. If I’d just wanted you for this, I wouldn’t have hired you. If I’d just wanted you for a fuck, I could have gotten that day one.”

Mike doesn’t bother to dispute this fact, but Harvey pauses to look him carefully in the eye before making his concluding remarks. “And as I’ve said, none of this has to change our professional relationship. You can still say no, and you can _always_ change your mind after the fact, even if you do say yes. If we do this, we do this on terms we can both agree on, and we have to trust each other every step along the way. I know I’m your boss, I know that complicates things. But your job is yours as long as you want it, and that has nothing to do with me, or us, whatever you decide.”

Mike runs both hands through his hair, shaking his head. “You mean my job is mine until Jessica finds out I’m a liar.”

Harvey moves even closer to him, reaching out to tip up Mike’s chin, forcing eye contact again. “You’re not a liar, you’re one of the most honest people I’ve ever met, and I mean that in the most frustratingly self-righteous way possible. And as for your faked credentials, Jessica already knows.”

At this, Mike yanks all the way away from him, getting up off the couch.

“She _knows_? God, you told her?”

“Not exactly. She guessed.”

“How did she _guess_?”

“I told you, she knows me. Better than anyone. She took one look at you and knew my interest in you had to extend beyond the strictly professional, and she guessed I wouldn’t be lucky enough to find the sub of my dreams in a parade of Harvard graduates.”

Mike stares him down, face hard and furious for another moment, and then he sags into himself, asking, “I’m the sub of your dreams?”

Harvey smiles, for once letting exactly how he feels about Mike show on his face. “You’re that, and a hell of a lot more.”

\---

They spend the next few hours thrashing things out, and by the time they’re done, Mike has secured three different and heartfelt apologies from Harvey, but he’s still muttering mutinously about Jessica and Harvey conspiring behind his back by the time they’re curled up together on the couch, both of them wrung out and emotionally exhausted.

“I can’t believe I’m even surprised,” Mike says, talking into the part of Harvey’s chest he’s currently wrapped around.

“Hmm?” Harvey murmurs, fingers carding methodically through Mike’s hair, cataloging every sigh of pleasure that escapes his mouth, every shift in his body subtly angling them closer.

“The fact that you’ve been pulling this crap on me for over a year and not telling me any of it is so typically Harvey I don’t even know if I can be mad at you about it.”

Harvey smiles ruefully, hiding his face in Mike’s hair. “Don’t let me off too easy, kid.”

Mike shifts a little, cocking his head at an awkward angle so they can see each other’s faces. “Is that part of it, the little nicknames? Part of what I should have noticed, I mean?”

It figures that Mike would be more upset about missing the signs than he is about them being there in the first place.

Harvey really is the luckiest son of a fuck on the planet earth.

“At first they were just me being an asshole,” Harvey admits. “But then I started to mean them.”

Still looking at him, Mike smiles. “I remember around November, when everything you said to me started to come off sounding hopelessly fond, and I knew you couldn’t be doing it on purpose, cause you kept trying to act like a dick, but I wasn’t fooled.”

Even though it was the opposite of what he’d planned, knowing that still makes Harvey feel incredibly proud. This is his chance, right here, and Harvey’s going to do everything he can to show Mike once and for all how amazing he truly is.

With practised ease, Harvey moves out from underneath Mike, reversing their positions neatly, so that Mike is pinned between Harvey’s thighs, looking up at Harvey with a mixture of shock, lust, and most important of all, trust.

Harvey runs his hands up the length of Mike’s chest, slipping one hand and then the other loosely around his neck, not pressing down, just getting used to the feel of Mike’s skin under his hands, his pulse beating rapidly against Harvey’s thumb.

“Do you want this? Knowing everything I’ve done to get us here, knowing who I am and what I’m capable of?”

Mike shakes his head wonderingly, and says, “What are you capable of, Harvey?” and it doesn’t sound like an accusation, it sounds like a request.

Harvey lets himself sink down a little lower against Mike, and shows him.

 

 

 

 **Part Two; Mike**

For the first few weeks of their new relationship, Harvey keeps things pretty vanilla.

Their very first time, Harvey kept Mike pinned to the couch with his knees and got Mike off just by talking him through it, telling him when. Since then, it’s been light restraints, occasionally holding onto Mike’s wrists hard enough to bruise, sharpening what used to be vague instructions into detailed orders, and always, always telling him when he can come.

Mike’s learned quickly enough that his own orgasm is typically an afterthought for Harvey, paling in comparison to the satisfaction he gets watching Mike shake apart underneath him, coming slowly back to awareness from the distant, soothing nothingness of sub space. It’s his favorite part, the afterward, watching Harvey watch him, letting Harvey clean him up, cradling Mike’s still-shaking body securely against his. Harvey doesn’t even really have to try, is the thing, he dominates Mike just by existing, makes Mike want to do anything, everything, for him just by virtue of being himself.

Still, Mike knows Harvey’s going easy on him, and Mike tries to appreciate it because he also knows Harvey’s doing it for his benefit, so as not to spook or overwhelm him, but a bigger part of him is dying for Harvey to take off the kid gloves and _hurt_ him already.

It’s what he needs, all of Harvey’s intensity focused on him, the full force that is Harvey Specter released against Mike’s wanting flesh.

He wants the pain, too, the dizzy sharp awareness that comes right after a punch, the way nothing ever tastes quite the same just after there’s been blood in your mouth.

He wants it, in large part, he knows, because it’s what Harvey wants too, but Mike’s been basing his desires on pleasing Harvey for the better part of a year, and Mike is hardly going to stop or apologize for that now, especially not when he’s finally realized the feeling is mutual.

\---

It’s been a full month of just toying with the edges of what this thing could really be between them before Mike starts fucking up on purpose to try and provoke a reaction out of Harvey.

At first it’s little stuff, taking a bit too long to follow through on something Harvey’s told him to do, not anticipating Harvey’s needs, waiting him out instead, sometimes pushing back, just a little, mouthing off more than he’s done in awhile, pushing the feelings card with the clients more. He keeps his disobedience out of the bedroom, but it’s not strictly on purpose; Harvey’s just too overwhelming when they’re fully into a scene. Mike wouldn’t think to resist him, even if he could remember how.

Still, the passive-aggressive resistance thing escalates one Wednesday morning, when Mike’s supposed to haul himself out of bed first to take a shower and start on breakfast while Harvey reads through seven different newspapers and commentates. It’s usually a pretty entertaining way to start the day, but this time, instead of following the set of carefully worded orders meant to regulate his behavior all morning long and leave Mike feeling proud enough of himself that you’d think he’d just cured cancer instead of making a couple eggs and toast, Mike stays plastered to Harvey’s side, ignoring the alarm and the feeling of queasy unhappiness that comes from knowing he’s not doing what Harvey wants.

Harvey just looks at him, unblinking and thoughtful, and after a few minutes, gets out of bed himself, leaving Mike there to wonder if this dismissal (and the denial of their usual morning kiss) is going to be all the punishment he gets.

\---

He’s left hanging all day, which proceeds with frustrating normalcy.

They drive to work together with Ray, and ride the elevator up to their offices like they have everyday of the last month, the look on Harvey’s face as soon as the elevator doors open practically begging someone to make a remark or even look at Mike wrong.

Louis tried that shit the first day they came in together, and if Mike guesses right, he still hasn’t recovered from the verbal trumping Harvey gave him.

Now, weeks in, no one so much as casts a sideways glance their way, and Mike follows a half-step behind Harvey as he cuts an efficient route to his office.

Harvey nods a mischievous hello to Donna, and Mike gives her a little grin and a half-bow before following Harvey inside.

And then, also as usual, Mike takes a seat on the couch in front of Harvey’s record collection, curling up with the stack of briefs he left half-proofed and waiting for him on the table the previous night. Since he and Harvey became what they are now, Mike hasn’t been to his cubicle longer than to transfer all his files from his computer to a new laptop Harvey bullied the IT guys into giving him and grab the photo of himself and his gram that he’d tacked there.

It’s not that they do anything, not at the office, not during business hours, anyway, but Harvey’s need to have Mike near him has only increased in the weeks they’ve been together, to the point where they both get a bit twitchy if they have to be away from each other for more than a couple of hours. Mike would worry about coming off as pathetic and clingy, but Harvey’s the one who started it, and no one would ever dare call Harvey Specter either of those things.

They work in relative silence until lunch, interrupted only by the occasional instruction from Harvey. These can range from strictly case-related to anything as personal or inane as ordering Mike to get his feet off the coffee table or telling him to go cool off in the bathroom when he gets a little hot and bothered staring at the lines of fierce concentration on Harvey’s face as he goes over the contract they’re negotiating with their new accounting firm.

Lunch for Mike is sitting beside Donna at her desk and watching videos of kittens being cute, because Donna seems to think spoiling him is a competition between her and Harvey now, and they both enjoy watching Harvey’s face when she acquiesces to his most outlandish requests.

Lunch for Harvey is a closed door meeting with Jessica, who still makes Mike nervous to the point of babbling incoherency, just for different reasons, now. It’s not that he’s worried about her, exactly, not in terms of what he and Harvey have, it’s just that he’s now even more indebted to her than he realized, and he has no idea how to go about pleasing her, especially since most of the routes at his disposal have been firmly corded off by Harvey.

In the afternoon they meet with a new client and then Harvey sends Mike off to the basement for a couple hours of archival research. He’s down there longer than he’d like, but Harvey didn’t tell him a certain time to come back, just to stay until he was done, and so all he has to deal with is the low-level discomfort of being away from Harvey, rather than the physically nauseating feeling of knowing he’s fucking up on explicit instructions.

Still, he can almost feel the annoyance building against Harvey’s temples over how long it’s taking him, and when Mike finally finds the key piece of information they need, he’s excited enough that he can’t suppress shouting, “Yes!” and raising a fist in the air. A second later, he glances around guiltily, but luckily no one is there to see him act like such a dork.

He rushes back upstairs, and presents the files to Harvey with a flourish, grinning, waiting for Harvey to tell him he’s done a good job. That’s the other thing about the new Harvey, he’s _way_ more effusive, telling Mike every time he’s done well instead of just once in a very blue moon.

This time though, Harvey just grunts, and pushes the files to the side of his desk, continuing on with whatever he was reading before Mike all but sprinted in.

Dejected, and a little mutinous, Mike sulks his way over to his couch, as he likes to think of it now, and grabs the nearest file, angling it so Harvey can’t see his face as he reads. He thinks he might hear Harvey snort affectionately, but Mike refuses to look up, and silence stretches through the rest of the afternoon.

\---

On their way home, Harvey keeps his hands to himself, which is a stark contrast to his usual practice, which is to loop a possessive arm around Mike’s waist as soon as they step outside the Pearson Hardman building and then proceed to steer him bodily to the car.

In the towncar, Harvey sits on the opposite end from Mike, and doesn’t beckon him closer with a smirk and a tilt of his head, and Mike starts fidgeting before they even get moving. He tries folding his hands together and wrapping his fingers tightly around his left wrist to calm himself down, something that works like a fucking _charm_ when Harvey does it, but it doesn’t help. His knee starts moving, the keys in his pocket jingling with the movement, and Harvey lets this go on for a full five minutes before he says, “Stop it,” in a voice Mike is incapable of disobeying.

He stops everything, moving, even breathing, just for a second, until his brain catches up and he accepts that Harvey’s command didn’t actually encompass all bodily function, just the loud and unnecessary ones.

But Harvey doesn’t even look at him, let alone smile or give any other visible sign that Mike’s done well, and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, bracing himself for when they get home.

\---

Except, when they get inside the condo, nothing happens.

Harvey slips out of his loafers and makes a beeline to the bedroom, where Mike knows from experience he’ll immediately change out of his suit and into a pair of faded jeans and a cotton pull-over. He’d seen Harvey in that kind of outfit once before this started, when he’d shown up drunk and needed validation for getting the stock information they’d needed to save Gabby, but seeing it every day has been a revelation.

Harvey is all about image, even at home; it’s just that the image he’s happy to project at home is very different from the one he employs at the office. At home, Harvey is relaxed and full of easy smiles, playing music through basically everything, cooking with surprising skill, wandering around in bare feet and mussed hair. The easy way he carries himself just makes the control he effortlessly exerts even more impressive, in Mike’s opinion, although he thinks it’s kind of annoying that Harvey can come off as even more awe-inspiring and powerful in bare feet than he does in a three-piece bespoke suit.

That’s what he’s usually like, anyway, but tonight he’s more tightly controlled, and Mike watches the tension build inside him with increasing interest and anxiety, waiting for Harvey to finally snap.

They work together silently, preparing dinner, and Mike starts to feel a little calmer, just moving in sync with Harvey, passing him the items he wants before he has to ask, anticipating where Harvey needs him to be and getting there a second early. It’s good, just watching some of the tension bleed out of Harvey’s shoulder’s, seeing the look in his eyes lose some of its sharpness.

Dinner is mostly a silent affair as well, until Harvey takes his napkin off his lap, folds it, and says, “I’m going out tonight.”

“What?” Mike protests loudly before he can stop himself, snapping his mouth shut a second after, horrified with himself.

Harvey smiles, a little dangerous, and Mike feels a thrill and then a rush of disappointment, knowing there’s no way he’s going to be on the receiving end of that look if Harvey’s going to be out all night doing god knows what.

“I’m having drinks with Jessica,” Harvey explains evenly, ignoring Mike’s outburst and the sullen look that’s sure to be on his face.

“Jessica,” Mike parrots, trying to keep the petulant jealously to a minimum.

Harvey’s smile turns into a full-on grin and for a minute Mike thinks Harvey’s actually going to leave things at that, but then the grin softens and Harvey shakes his head, probably at himself, because his next move is to reach across the table and touch Mike for the first time practically all day, squeezing his wrist reassuringly.

Mike can’t help the way his whole self sags with relief at the touch, and turns his wrist around in Harvey’s loose hold, palm up to wrap his fingers around Harvey’s hand.

Harvey holds on just long enough to get Mike’s breathing back to a normal rate and his mind to stop blinking panic, and then he ruins it entirely by getting up from the table and tossing over his shoulder, “Don’t wait up.”

\---

Mike spends the next few restless hours trying to work and pace at the same time, but he doesn’t feel particularly inclined to help Harvey out right now, which is what the work would do, and pacing gets a little old after awhile.

Next he samples Harvey’s extensive movie library, putting in _The Witness_ but turning it off after twenty minutes when all he can think about is Harvey’s totally adorable and deeply sincere crush on Harrison Ford. Not that Mike doesn’t agree, but still. You’d expect someone like Harvey to have a little more dignity about the whole thing. Especially since, as a Trekkie, Harvey totally lacks an appreciate for Star Wars.

After the failed attempted at watching a movie, Mike thinks about calling a friend, but realizes with embarrassment that he’s not friends with anyone who isn’t from the office, not anymore, and as much as he’d like to call Donna and demand she make Harvey come home and pay attention to him, Mike doesn’t think he could take the lifetime of mocking that would inevitably ensue.

Finally, feeling like a complete ass, he smacks himself on the forehead and lets himself out of the condo, slipping out of the building and onto his bike, on his way to his Grammy’s place.

She schools him at checkers for an hour before asking him what’s wrong, and Mike props his chin on his hand and says dramatically, “Harvey.”

She rolls her eyes and waves at him dismissively, and Mike blinks, affronted.

“Harvey’s a good boy,” she says, like that’s all she’ll hear on the subject, and Mike almost chokes on his own incredulity.

“You’re not even going to let me tell you what he did?”

She shakes her head. “What he did was give you the opportunity of a lifetime and then treat you like gold, so I’m reasonably sure whatever you’re referring to can’t be all that bad.”

Mike crosses his arms, and slouches lower in his chair.

He knew introducing them was a bad idea.

\---

When he gets back home, Harvey still isn’t there, but Mike’s finally worn himself out, and he figures if nothing else, going to sleep will be the easiest thing he does all night, because at least it’s something Harvey told him to do.

\---

Mike wakes up to the prickly feeling that someone is watching him, and sure enough, when he opens his eyes, Harvey is looming over him, a look on his face that has Mike half-hard and shrinking lower into the mattress in an instant.

Harvey grins, and Mike’s pulse quickens even more.

“We’re taking a personal day,” Harvey announces, so incongruous with Mike’s experience at Pearson Hardman, and with _Harvey_ , that he just blurts,

“I didn’t think we had those.”

“This in an exception,” Harvey says loftily, and Mike’s finally awake enough to wonder if that’s what drinks with Jessica last night was about. Securing their freedom for the day for... whatever this is going to be.

He pulls himself into an upright position and looks at Harvey expectantly.

“What do you want me to do?”

Harvey’s face breaks open into completely genuine, unpracticed delight, and Mike just smiles hopelessly back at him, knowing he’ll do whatever it takes to keep that look on Harvey’s face.

\---

All that happens at first is that Harvey orders him into the shower so sternly Mike’s halfway undressed before he even pauses to think, and then he takes his time under the hot spray, trying to calm himself down. He thinks about getting himself off to get a head start on whatever Harvey has planned, but he doesn’t have permission for that, and while he doesn’t strictly need it, he’d rather have it, and he certainly isn’t interested in risking a disappointed look from Harvey if he comes out and Harvey knows what he’s done. Which of course he will, so Mike finishes up the shower without any shenanigans, and dries himself off briskly, and he’s still red-skinned and naked when he presents himself to Harvey in their bedroom.

Harvey rewards him with a soft smile and a fleeting touch to his lower back, and Mike leans into it like he hasn’t been touched in a month. Harvey withdraws his hand all too soon, but there’s enough promise in his eyes that Mike can’t bring himself to mind.

“Go wait for me in my office,” Harvey instructs, voice low and hypnotic, and Mike swallows a frisson of fear and desire.

He’s never actually been in Harvey’s study, not for this, but he knows what it is, he knows what’s in there.

Like some kind of freaking super villain or something, Harvey’s got a secret room built into his office, and it’s not actually accessed by pulling down a false book from his shelf, but it’s damn close.

And inside that room, well, Mike has more than a few guesses, but the possibilities alone are enough to make him dizzy, and he barely makes it through to the office door before he falls to his knees, already shaking more than a little.

Still, he adopts the pose Harvey taught him, kneeling with his head bent and his hands folded between his knees.

Harvey makes him wait a good twenty minutes, enough for Mike to have already slipped into a meditative trance by the time Harvey enters the room.

Mike’s ears perk up immediately, catching the pleased noise Harvey makes at finding him already in position and waiting, and he runs his fingers roughly through Mike’s hair, eliciting a soft moan of gratitude from Mike before dragging him up onto his feet by a fistful of hair.

Mike’s still not wearing anything, but he suspects Harvey’s turned up the heat in the condo, because he doesn’t feel cold, just pleasantly flushed and already painfully aroused.

“Pace yourself, kid,” Harvey growls, and Mike wills his erection to disappear.

It doesn’t, of course, not with Harvey right there beside him, not with that look on Harvey’s face, but he lets it go, shaking his head and smirking more than a little.

Mike doesn’t say anything, because Harvey hasn’t told him he can. Instead, he just waits, and after a few moments of contemplation, Harvey strides over the painting that conceals the access panel for his secret lair, and in another minute, the door masquerading as part of the wall has swung open and Harvey is leading him inside, his hand clamped down on the back of Mike’s neck.

Inside, Mike takes one look at the suspension rack - something he’s only seen in magazines and his fantasies - and his knees give out.

Harvey’s there to catch him, of course, steadying Mike with a touch and a word, “Easy, kid, easy.”

“On your knees,” Harvey says next, which would defeat the purpose of catching him, except Mike knows very well the difference between doing something because Harvey told him to and having it happen by accident.

He folds obediently back onto the ground, and looks up at Harvey only after Harvey says, “Eyes on me, Mike.”

Harvey regards him thoughtfully for awhile, and Mike stares unblinkingly back at him.

Mike can guess Harvey’s known exactly what he’s wanted to do from the second he woke Mike up this morning, or maybe even before that, but it still looks like Harvey’s making a decision, settling into the sharp-edged confidence of his Dom self with such clarity and finality that it’s almost like he’s slipped into a different skin.

Mike watches as Harvey approaches the rack, fiddling briefly with some of the ropes, adjusting things, and finally saying, “To me, Mike,” and Mike crawls his way over until he’s crouched at Harvey’s feet.

Harvey touches his hair again, gentler this time, and he murmurs a few words of encouragement, emboldening Mike enough to look up, to see what’s coming in Harvey’s eyes when he yanks Mike half-way upright by one twisted-back wrist, and Mike cries out in pain that’s sharp and immediate and soso good.

“Quiet,” Harvey says, voice even the way it always is when he’s giving the orders that matter the most.

Mike bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, but remains silent.

Harvey starts strapping him in, the soft fibre of the ropes tied tightly enough around his wrists and ankles to bite pleasantly into the skin.

Mike has to keep right on holding his teeth down against his bottom lip to stop from moaning when Harvey is finally satisfied, drawing away from Mike to admire his handiwork.

Mike’s splayed out, arms pulled up above his head, legs spreadeagle at opposite corners of the rack. It’s not painful, not yet, but it’s already uncomfortable, and the rope is just shy of cutting off the circulation to his hands and feet.

Harvey stands with his hands on his hips, just watching Mike, for an excruciating few minutes before saying, “For the first hour, it’s just going to be annoying, you won’t be able to move, or relax, but the ache in your shoulders shouldn’t start to build for at least the first forty-five minutes. An hour and a half in, your whole body is going to start to burn, all your joints protesting together, but you’re not going to be able to move.”

Mike listens carefully for the things Harvey hasn’t said. Like when he’s going to let Mike out, for example. Like where he’s going to be while all this happens.

“I’m going to be outside, doing whatever I damn well please,” Harvey continues, answering that question. “Got anything to say?”

Mike knows what this is - not blanket permission to ask anything, just Harvey being his usual, surprisingly cautious self, giving Mike the opportunity to safeword before they even get started.

Mike’s neck is already getting a bit stiff, but he shakes his head despite the painful twist of it, and Harvey beams at him proudly.

“Good boy,” he says, and then without a second glance, he’s gone, leaving the door open behind him, and then Mike is alone.

Mike tells time by the pain in his shoulders and the ache in his cock, and the sharper the pain gets, the further he slips into a seductive blankness. He struggles to stay in the moment, wanting to feel every second of this, but the pull of sub space is too strong, too tantalizing, and he lets his mind shut off, almost too far gone to even appreciate the singular tranquility of this state of being, the only way he’s ever found to shut off the chaotic race of his mind completely.

In all the years he was with Trevor, all the drugs he smoked and all the half-mocking orders he followed, Mike never found anything close to a high like this, a peace like that.

He drifts in and out of awareness, attention caught by the occasional muffled sound of Harvey moving around in the condo.

It’s excruciating, knowing Harvey’s close but not being able to see him, being so good when Harvey’s not even there to appreciate his efforts.

He wants to call out but he knows Harvey wants him to stay silent, so Mike does.

Hunger sets in around the time his hands and feet go numb, and right on cue, Harvey returns, carrying a bottle of water and a bowl of fruit and cubes of cheese.

He taps Mike’s jaw with one finger and Mike opens his mouth, sucking down greedily when Harvey puts the water bottle to his lips. Once he’s drunk his fill, Harvey puts a grape in Mike’s mouth, and then a piece of cheddar, repeating the process until the edge of Mike’s hunger is gone and he’s straining against the ropes, desperate for the feel of Harvey's hands against his skin.

Harvey gives him an indulgent smile and leans forward, holding his body away from Mike but brushing their lips together for one blinding, agonizing, perfect flash of contact, and Mike could have come from that alone if Harvey hadn’t said, “Not yet,” in his deepest growl.

After that, Harvey leaves again, and it’s harder to stay silent this time, harder not to give in and beg for Harvey to come back to him.

He closes his eyes and is surprised to find his lashes damp, sticking together, not even aware there’ve been tears in his eyes.

It takes him longer to forget the pain, too, it’s stronger now, and everything seems over-bright, too intense, his skin feels like it’s on fire and he’s so hard it’s beyond the pale.

He’s half-numb and tear-soaked by the time Harvey finally returns, and when Harvey sinks to his knees and takes Mike into his mouth, there’s no stopping the scream that’s ripped from his throat.

Harvey has mercy on him, finally, bringing him off with a few dizzying swirls of his tongue, and Mike is babbling, all thoughts of silence banished from his mind by fevered, frenzied lust, and he starts to cry in earnest when Harvey stands up and works away at his restraints, tugging Mike free and catching him when Mike drops like a dead-weight.

Harvey gathers Mike up in his arms like he’s weightless, though, and carries him to the bedroom so fast it would make Mike’s head spin, if it wasn’t already, and then Harvey is everywhere at once, checking his wrists and ankles, kissing the red, rope-burned flesh and making Mike hard all over again, whispering soothing words of praise and comfort, pulling Mike close and bringing him off a second time by nothing more than granting Mike the verbal permission to come.

“My beautiful, brilliant boy,” Harvey is saying into his mouth, still kissing him, and Mike wouldn’t think he had the strength left for it, but somehow he manages to kiss Harvey back, pouring all of his want-gratitude-love into every kiss.

When he comes down, just a fraction, Mike starts to reach for Harvey’s cock, but Harvey stops him with the shake of his head, and Mike finally notices the come drying against his leg that most definitely doesn’t belong to him.

He makes a sound that’s half-proud, half-desolate and wanting, but Harvey shushes him with another kiss.

If he can’t get to Harvey come, he can do the next best thing, so Mike plasters himself impossibly closer against Harvey’s skin, and says, “Thank you,” as clearly as his ruined voice will allow.

Harvey presses a firm kiss to Mike’s forehead, and he falls asleep to the steady mantra of Harvey telling him he’s good, over and over.


End file.
